I can smell the basil

While walking by 

and the

Sunflowers are strong—

They have yet to die,

But the chamomile is

Unsprouted still

And the cilantro

Seems to struggle—ill.

There are weeds knitted

In the pots,

I removed their web—

That's what I thought.

Some threads stayed

Hidden and remained,

At least some progress

Is what I've obtained.